


The toe that didn´t belong

by meet_me_in_samarra



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Dirty Talk, Drug Addict Sherlock, Horny John, M/M, Name-Calling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punklock, Sexy Times, Shameless Smut, Sherlock Holmes is a Tease, Sherlock is a slut, Top John, Unilock, but in a nice way, don´t copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 11:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22849612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meet_me_in_samarra/pseuds/meet_me_in_samarra
Summary: Every time John thought back to the occasion the funny thing was that the first thing he had noticed to be out of place had been a...toe.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 28
Kudos: 89





	The toe that didn´t belong

**Author's Note:**

> one-shot  
> even if that´s also a punklock it´s not connected to my "Wretched and Divine" series

It was one of those Friday evenings when seemingly everyone went out visiting parties, having dates or rather having anything involving fun (and some decent amount of alcohol by the way) to celebrate the upcoming weekend.

Sadly, John Watson had been one of those poor sods which had to work. To be more precise, he was put on late shift duty at St. Bart´s hospital _again_ as he was training to become a medical doctor there. His shift today had ended after a really miserable time in the A&E, with an abhorrent load of petty accidents coming in and none of them being really life-threatening or difficult to treat.

But the sheer amount of people that somehow had managed to fall, slip, stumble and broke bones, ruptured tendons or sprained joints in an almost comical and ridiculous way (like the young father that treaded barefoot on a spiky lego brick in his son´s chamber, hopped around in pain only to stumble over another one, falling clumsily down and hitting his temple against the large lego castle, crushing it and also nearly crushing his skull, getting himself a concussion and a horrendously bleeding laceration which had to be stitched) made John´s workload hectic, exhausting and simply bone-tiring.

So, as his duty was over, _Thank God,_ John was left drained of all his energy and compared himself mentally with an old, overused and tighly wrought-out washrag. He definitely smelled like one. A 25 year old feeling like 52. Contemplating that, he had not really felt alive for a long time since he had such a shitload of work and studying to do to achieve his graduation.

It was no surprise that the only thing John thought about as he finally arrived at two in the early morning of Saturday at the small house which he shared with two other students was eat-shower-sleep. In exactly this order.

John occupied one of three small rooms on the upper floor whereas the kitchen, bathroom, toilet and living room were shared between the three young men. It was a rather nice accomodation, cheap enough for John to afford when the rent was split and it was not dingy but equipped with a more or less wild mismatched array of furniture in different styles which brought about a very comfy atmosphere.

The household duties were scheduled on a weekly basis so that nobody could complain to have to do all the work and each of them had to accomplish all the different tasks at one time. It was actually a very good arrangement and worked very well at least most of the time.

The trouble was that especially on weekends his flatmates, single, young and horny, tended to bring their hook-up of the night home. Which was fine of course, John did as well, but only as long as they kept it to their rooms. The shared space was sort of taboo for shagging.

John entered the tiny hall, left his coat on a hanger and his shoes in the cupboard and entered the kitchen. His foot hit something on the ground and looking down John found one of Christopher´s destinctive trainers (they were bright green) lying haphazardly halfway under the table. A grey sock had entangled itself on the handle of the refrigerator.

_How could this possibly have happened? Chris must have been in real frenzy to get rid of it…again._

John sighed but had to chuckle regardless. Christopher was studying chemistry and a friendly bloke, a nice flatmate and a very handsome young man. He was openly gay and no one had a problem with that. The only reoccurring trouble with his gayness was that when Chris picked someone up in his favourite club and brought him home he was always so randy that he lost all common sense. Meaning that he would try to fuck the person as soon as possible on the next available surface be it the kitchen table or the floor in front of the sofa or even in the bathtub one time.

John remembered that occasion particularly well because he had entered the bathroom to have a shower, suspecting nothing and had found a prone body in the tub and got the shock of his lifetime thinking the unknown and half naked guy was dead. His doctor´s senses kicked in ferociously and mere seconds later John ensured that the bloke had just fallen asleep there after obviously passing out due to massive intake of alcohol but was otherwise fine. He threw a rug over him, grumbled loudly that he had to postphone the shower, there was no way of getting the guy out, went into the sitting room and threw another rug over Chris who had passed out completely starkers on the sofa.

Peter, his other flatmate who studied law, spent this weekend with his current girlfriend somewhere away in the countryside.

John made himself a cup of tea and two big ham and cheese sandwiches while the water was cooking and wolfed it all down because he was terribly hungry. He made a beeline for the shower, threw his used clothes in the large hamper, cleaned and dried himself up and tied a large towel around his waist.

He decided to check quickly if Chris was OK, he had to be in his room whereas his clothes could be found here and there in the basement. Thankfully he was snoring peacefully in his bed, his presumed sex-partner nowhere to be seen and the used condom on the floor in front of Chris´ bed being the only reminder of him. It must have been a real quick one, being already gone at half-three in the morning.

Finally John could think about finishing the third task he had given himself which meant falling into his bed and sleeping soundly into the late Saturday morning.

Happy and content with himself and half asleep John was completely oblivious to his surroundings as he entered his room. He switched on the light, strode over to his bed and was just going to grab his duvet when he saw _it_.

A _toe_.

On his bed, which should have been white with his plain and simple bedclothes, lay a black lumpy heap. A human toe was sticking out of it at the foot of his bed. John shook his head, blinked hard and tried to get his brain focused back to reality.

There was indeed a toe.

A toe sticking out through a hole in a black sock on a left foot. Attached to the foot was a long leg which lay sprawled diagonally across his bed while the other leg dangled at the knee over the bedside. The right foot was still stuck in a black, scuffed and scratched DocMartens boot.

John blinked again and stared. The _oh-so-long_ legs were clad in black skinny jeans. _Ripped_ skinny jeans. John snorted. Ripped was much too polite a term to call _this_. _Shredded_ seemed more adequate. Like _outrageously_ shredded. Rips and tears covered every few inches of tortured fabric, starting high up on the thin but sinewy thighs and reaching down to the slender shins. Bony knees covered with smooth milky skin jutted out of large holes where there was no fabric left at all. John wondered shortly how difficult it must be to slip into such jeans without one`s feet getting hopelessly tangled in the process.

John´s brain performed another mental somersault as it tried very hard to attach some sense to the picture displayed in front of him. There was no doubt: an unknown man lay spread-eagled on his bed in his room.

_What the fuck…?_

Who was this? Why was he doing here? How did he get there? And most important: how on earth could John get him _out_?

Searching for a face John´s gaze travelled slowly upwards. The torso which adjoined to the alarmingly tattered jeans was half naked. An equally ripped and frayed black t-shirt had risen up high to reveal a slim but taut abdomen and clearly visible ribs moved slighly with each shallow inhalation of a beautifully sculpted breast. The skin was immaculate and hairless and pale like precious marble.

A loose, red and black striped lumberjack shirt halfway covered his upper body. The elbows were torn and one seam at the shoulder was also. The rip had been fastened by several safety pins. One of the long sleeves had moved upwards while sleeping and revealed typically scarred veins around the elbow.

_Dear God, he´s a junkie! There´s a fucking druggie in my bed…is he the one who was with Christopher earlier on? And now he sleeps his high off in my damn bed. The bastard._

John took a step closer to be able to see the face of the repugnant gutterpunk. He saw pierced lips and eyebrows. Large tunnels in the ears but to John´s great surprise the foreign man was actually handsome. More than that. The punk had a lovely and aristocratic looking face. He was _beautiful_. Black long luscious curls were sprawled in every direction over the pillow. His expression was peaceful and placid. He looked like a sleeping angel. A _fallen_ angel considering the rest of him. Or even like the Morning Star himself with this devilish alluring face and body.

John braced himself before he still hesitantly reached out with his hand to firmly grab an alarmingly bony shoulder. He shook the bloke strongly and shouted at him: “Wakey, wakey!“

The junkie stirred and groaned. At least he was not unconscious or even overdosed. John shook him again so that his head lolled from one side to the other.

“What are you doing?“, the punk growled before he slightly opened his eyes, “Leave me alone!“

“No! Wake up and get out of my bed.“ John shook him once more while shouting at him and as a result he was greeted with an honest to God death glare out of squinted eyes.

“No. I stay. It´s nice here.“ John found himself being scrutinized by stunningly multi-coloured eyes. Slightly bloodshot eyes with definitely saucer-sized pupils.

_Argh. He´s high. And recalcitrant. And still in my bed._

John blinked stupidly and wondered what he could do to get the punk to shove off. Suddenly he felt out of his depth as the sneering expression on the not-so-angelic-anymore face changed into a longing and even a predatory one. The eyes were now finally fully open and a razor-sharp and intimitating kind of attention was focused on John who saw that the irises were shining in incredibly marvellous jewel colours.

_Shiny emerald, saturated sapphire, opalescent grey with tiny gold speckles. Beautiful!_

Above all that and even though obviously high a frightening intelligence lurked behind those eyes. The punk eyed John appreciatingly and propped his head up on an elbow to get a better look. He hummed and nodded slightly as if John´s looks had found his approval. The unruly raven-black curls bounced with the movement. John wanted to grab them, tug at them and bury his nose deeply in this silken texture.

_NO! Wait, what the heck am I thinking about…_

“Hello, sexy!“ The punk purred. Like a cat who had just caught a mouse.

John swallowed. He immediately lost any sort of confidence in staying unfazed by the contradictory beauty in front of him and was lost for words as he watched those plush lips being wetted by a sliver of red tongue.

_You´re the sexy one here…God Damn!_

“Oh! You like what you see. I do, too.“ The punk stated in a surprisingly deep rumbling baritone voice perfect for telephone sex. He also sounded posh with the unmistakable snotty drawl. John felt his cock stiffening underneath the towel.

_That´s a bit not good…_

“Who the fuck are you?“ John pressed out through gritted teeth.

“Name´s Sherlock and I will be _your fuck_.“ The punk sat up and looked John up and down. As his gaze reached the spot where the towel was bulged he smirked and raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

While sitting up the holey t-shirt had slipped down over his belly and sadly covered the delectable marble skin. John groaned out of frustration. He was not quite sure if the reason for that was the skin-hiding shirt or the lecherous proposal. Or the fact that this punk-devil seemed to get straight under his skin. And right into his cock.

“I´m just tired and want to get into my bed.“ This was absolutely embarrassing.

“What´s keeping you off?“ The punk asked and managed to look soooooo innocent as he pulled off the tattered lumberjack shirt and let it fall pointily to the floor.

“You are!“ John snapped.

“Well, life´s a bitch.“ Sherlock deadpanned while watching John under beautifully curved dark eyelashes. His tongue slid out again and licked tantalizingly slowly above his upper lip.

“Just get out of my bed.“ John commanded. His temper was definitely rising quickly. As was his cock. Rising, that meant. Quickly.

“Make me.“ Sherlock grinned smugly and looked expectant. He bucked his hips and…groaned.

John glared. The fucking bastard took every effort to rile him up. John scowled and saw that the skinny fit jeans of the punk were definitely tented as well.

_What a horny slut._

“Just join me, I already warmed the covers and I´ll even give you some space.“ Sherlock chuckled as he wriggled a bit to the side. John did not know how he managed to let a wriggle look like pure porn but manage he did. A masterful show of lascivious want.

Even worse, the disgusting punk eyed John once more and idly cupped his large hand around his own balls. Long lithe marble fingers with sloppily black painted fingernails started to fondle his own groin in slow lazy movements and he started to…moan. Lustful. Deviant. Desirable…

“How generous of you.“ John griped as he watched, rapt. Thinking about those skillful fingers wrapping around his cock. Cradling his balls. Getting inserted into him from behind.

_Sexual desire impersonified lounging and moaning in my fucking bed._

“Ah, come on. I know you´re horny as well. You ogle me. You salivate. You´re obviously hard.“ Sherlock bucked his hips again and slid his long hand deep through his slim thighs and rutted against his lower arm in a slow lazy way while he kept his jewel eyes fixed on John´s.

John swallowed and imagined how it would feel if the punk would rut against him.

“Oh, this could be _your_ cock. I want to feel your hard, red, swollen, hot cock between my damp thighs. _Against_ my wet arse. _In_ my tight arse.“ Sherlock practically growled. “Wanna have a go?“

By that he pointed at John´s tented towel with a crumpled condom package he had somehow retrieved out of his jeans pocket. He waved it in front of John´s eyes like one who tried to coax an unwilling mule to tow a cart.

“No need to restrain yourself.“ A sinful groan followed as Sherlock arched his back and fondled his balls again. “Let me feel how you´re hot, slick and succulent.“

John felt his anger reaching a peak. The fatigue and sleepiness he had felt minutes ago was gone. Instead he felt adrenaline (from anger, or arousal he did not know) surging through his body which made him utterly alert.

“Take me. Claim me. Punish me!“ Sherlock moaned submissively but managed to sound like an arrogant prick at the same time.

The punk flipped the condom at John´s chest and grinned deviantly. John snorted in disgust as it bounced off and landed on the duvet in front of him. It seemed to mock him. Or did he snort out of lust? The punk behaved like a vile slutty cunt and to John´s own surprise and self-loathing he found that it turned him on like hell. He wanted to subdue, to castigate, to use the slim body in his bed.

_Jesus, I want to fuck him into my mattress, so hard he´ll never rise again. This little shit!_

John breathed heavily and tried very, very hard not to follow his primal urge to just mount the mouthy brat like he deserved it. Or shut him up after shoving his dick deep, deep down into this rotten mouth.

“I´m still slick and loose from Christopher´s lubed cock. Don´t you want to slip in?“, Sherlock purred and opened his mouth wide and swallowed three of his fingers. He pressed them up to the knuckles inside his big mouth and made gagging noises, while his other hand still kneaded his erection beneath the tatty jeans.

“Definitely not.“ John felt blood rising to his head as he watched the depraved show the filthy punk made for him. 

_What a degenerate twat._

_Fuck, I want him. So bad!_

The discrepancy between Sherlock´s looks (gutterpunk junkie whore) and his voice (upperclass private schoolboy) was stunning and _enormously_ sexy. Thinking about that, John wanted to pounce at the slim man with the ragged clothes and the sluttish behaviour. He wanted to rip the jeans off him and hold him down while he would shove his cock right up to the hilt into that hot piece of wanton arse to show him who was the master here. To own him, to debase him, to fuck him like the piece of meat he was.

_Oh my God, he makes me think like an animal in heat…_

“Don´t be such an uptight killjoy“, Sherlock whined and while cooing lecherously he opened the zipper of his jeans and shoved his hand right into it. Dark tufts of pubic hair could be seen while the lewd punk rubbed his cock several times before he gripped his shaft and let John see the leaking tip of his reddened glans.

“Don´t you want to subdue me? Teach me a lesson? For being a strung-out filthy slut?“, Sherlock made randy breathy noises that went straight to John´s brain stem.

John had a real hard time to restrain himself from just doing that. After all he was a decent person and not into humilation and punishment or domination of his sexual partners but that _fucking fucker_ really tried very hard to get the worst out of him. If he only did not have to be so painfully turned on by that prick!

Suddenly the junkie bent his lithe torso forward and a long bony arm dotted with angry red track marks reached out. Slim elegant fingers grabbed tight at John´s towel. Sherlock pulled hard and snatched the one piece of fabric away that had still upheld John´s dignity. John was left standing completely starkers and flushed deep red. Red head and red cock. His erection jutted straight upwards and moved with the panting of John´s breast.

The punk giggled delighted at the sight. “Ohhhh, yessssss!“, he sighed.

_I´ll show you who has the upper hand here you insolent piece of shit!_

“Are you man enough to use _that_ on me?“, Sherlock prodded, “or are you just a weakly sissy?“

_That is it!_

With a furious outcry John finally moved forward and seized hard the one ankle that still lay on top of the duvet with both hands and pulled the shameless punk fiercely out of his bed. Sherlock tumbled ungracefully down onto his arse as he hit the floor with a loud thud. He was too surprised and probably also too high to react quickly enough to prevent it.

The punk squeaked in pain and then literally hissed at John, nearly spitting, like an angry cat. If he had had fur it would probably stand all the way up now, John thought. He grinned an evil satisfied smile while gazing down on the fucking prick. Who was looking positively scandalized and ridiculously indignant up towards John, his sinful mouth pouted in an adorable moue.

“For fuck´s sake, what´s gotten into you?“, he shouted and then he clambered back into the bed or at least tried to since John started grappling with him to keep him out. They struggled with each other, a clumsy tangle of limbs, grabbing and pulling and shoving at each other for quite some time until they both fell panting onto the bed.

John somehow landed on top of the punk and straddled him across his upper thighs before he pinned twig-thin wrists above the riotous mop of dishevelled inky black curls. Sherlock´s battered tee had somehow got lost in the fight and John stared open mouthed down at the gorgeous chest with two beautifully sensual pearl-shaped rosy nipples that were both pierced and adorned with tiny spiky rings.

_Rings made perfectly for sucking on and nibbling at and biting into._

The punk smelled of cigarettes, sweet sweat and musky sex from before which should be off-putting but actually aroused John in a sinful way he had not imagined could be possible. Both men were gasping for breath and John just realized that he was sort of sitting on the punk´s cock that was still hanging out of the ripped jeans in an ultimately depraved fashion.

Well, not really _hanging_ but more like _standing_ out between the opened zipper. A small drop of precum was clinging to the side of the glans, waiting to drip slowly down and moisten the waiting curly black nest of pubic hair. There was no sign of bashfulness in the punk´s eyes.

While John was devoid of his towel and therefore utterly naked he was bashfully aware of his own cock being also quite visible in all the beauty of a painfully hard erection jutting out. John´s face turned even more into a bright red and he felt so humiliated he thought about running from his room and hiding in a cupboard.

“Hmm, finally“, Sherlock hummed like someone who had just tasted something delicious, “I _quite_ like that. You should have done this right from the start.“

He rocked his hips against the hotness of John´s groin which pressed tight against the moist tip of his cock. The friction was electrifying and sent shivers all over John´s body. Sherlock´s sensitive pale skin had become a pinkish hue where John had grabbed him during the fight. Lovebites covered his throat and collarbones forming a pattern that spoke of lust and desire and John wanted to add his marks and overwrite the older ones to claim the delectable punk as his own.

An impatient drawl interrupted John´s possessive thoughts.

“Will you fuck me now? I´m all yours.“

Mesmerizing coloured eyes bore into John´s, glazed with obvious desire (and whatever drugs he´d taken) and the punk moaned so lustful and eager to be taken that John couldn´t help as he felt his cock twitching at the sight of this gloriously debauched creature under him. Precum started to drip from his glans and he sighed as he put his hands on the perfectly shaped nipples to take a first tantalizing grip.

The junkie keened desperately.

“You just got fucked by Chris“, John stalled.

“Yes, well, that was a rather disappointing quick buggering before he passed out while I hoped to be thoroughly fucked into the mattress. So could you do me the favour?“, Sherlock complained and he lasciviously bucked his arse upwards and spread his long legs as far as the skinny fit jeans allowed.

„You´re better equipped than him, anyway. Could actually be quite ful- _filling_.“

John pressed his groin and butt hard against the punk beneath him and bore down to suck delightfully at plush lips that opened up instantly. Their tongues danced around each other as they sloppily explored their mouths. It was unearthly sensual.

Sherlock rutted against John´s thighs as little as he could due to the punishing pressure John exerted to immobilise him. He held the punk down and thoroughly enjoyed having power over him and Sherlock obviously enjoyed being dominated as well.

„You know you´re insufferable?“, John panted.

„So I´ve been told uncountable times. Care to do anything about it? Like teaching me a lesson on not behaving naughty?“

Sherlock slowly licked his lips again and and opened his cupid-bowed mouth as wide as possible. John could see his palate moving as Sherlock deliberately swallowed.

John gave up trying to resist this gorgeous man and sighed: “Dear God! You´re beautiful!“

“I know!“, came the arrogant answer, “they all tell me.“

“So you fuck around quite a lot, don´t you?“

Sherlock hummed in confirmation. “I´m a slut. Does that bother you?“

John never had to think before he answered: “No. I´ll use a condom. But you´re high.“

Sherlock groaned: “So what?“

“You may not be able to consciously consent.“

“For God´s sake, I´m an adult and I´m on way too less cocaine to be unable to know exactly what I´m doing. I want your cock in me. Now! Mouth or arse…your choice! Just. Do. It!“

While grousing in his lovely baritone Sherlock had closed his mouth into a lascivious half-pout and stuck the pink tip of his glistening tongue in the corner where he idly licked at his ring-piercing. A smoldering look under long beautifully curved eyelashes that were smudged with the rests of his eyeliner was directed at a wildly aroused John.

“Would be a shame to waste _that_ “, Sherlock pressed his groin against John´s erection as an affirmative, “you want to bury that in my throat? Make me gag? I could swallow you deep, deep down and suck you off until you´re as dry as the desert.“

John eyed the shameless punk with dilated pupils as he had the sudden urge to own him.

Sherlock peered right into John´s midnight-blue eyes. The look was full of expectation and eagerness. Oh, the sight of his swollen cock buried up unto the hilt in that filthy mouth to shut the punk up for good was _soooo_ _tempting_. John´s heartbeat seared up into dangerous heights. Blood pounded in his ears and his mouth went suddenly dry.

John´s contemplation was interrupted again. As his attention had flagged due to the disconcerting display the rotten junkie gave under him, John´s control had lessened and the lithe hot body he was still straddling wriggled suddenly and Sherlock managed to free his wrists and flopped deftly onto his stomach.

The writhing right against John´s groin was sending electric shocks into his painfully hard and ever more dripping cock. It screamed for immediate release and John felt like bursting his balls. He breathed heavily and tried not to instantly faint.

John ogled big-eyed and incredolously at the backside of Sherlock´s skin-tight tattered black jeans. They were also widely ripped below his plush arse cheeks and gave a mouth-watering view at the smooth milk-white skin peaking out through the tears. A small wet spot darkened the faded black colour right at the place where his entrance had to be and John´s tortured brain finally short-circuited.

_Jesus, I´m going to die, diediediedie…_

John watched completely mesmerized as Sherlock shoved a long fingered hand deeply back down into the ratty jeans and

_Oh my God Fuck Fuck Fuckkkkk!_

he actually started to finger his own hole. John saw the movement beneath the tattered denim: in-out, around, in again…he could even hear the damned muscle making a wet sucking noise as the slutty punk opened up himself.

_This has to stop immediately before I faint! How filthier can he possible become?_

Sherlock purred: “Ohhh, I´m still nicely _slick_ and _open_ from your predesessor… don´t you want to join me in there?“

He yanked his hand out of his hole and showed John his index finger. It was moist and John thought he could see a faint wisp of steam emerging due to the hotness of Sherlock´s body. Which was of course impossible but his imagination was running wild. A large dollop of precum dripped from John´s glans and landed on the torn jeans, forming a new wet spot right beside the old one on the battered fabric.

Sherlock smirked.

John groaned.

Next, the punk put his moist index finger into his mouth, sucked at it langoriously while fixing his gaze over his shoulder onto John. The skin beneath his achingly sharp cheekbones caved sinfully as he pulled his digit hopelessly slow out of his perfectly shaped lips. He let it go with a wet smacking plop all the while emitting a deeply sensual hum like a purring tiger.

“It would be very convenient if you fucked me _right now_. I want your cock in me. Bury it deep down!“

“For a bottom you´re quite bossy.“ John huffed.

John´s hands trembled with impatience as he slid his fingers roughly through the tears below the punk´s arsecheeks, grabbed the distressed fabric and pulled hard on the annoyingly interfering denim. He did not care at all as he opened those tears even wider, in fact he was quite satisfied with the ripping sound as he yanked the waistband down over a gloriously formed arse and right onto the punk´s knees in a quick movement.

Sherlock moaned: “Yes, finally!“

John took in the delectable sight of jutting hipbones and nearly had a heart attack as the punk shamelessly showed off his deliciously taut arse. Pale, hairless, perfect skin and two lovely shaped bottom cheeks in the exact size to fit into John´s hands. He clenched his fists hard into the bedsheets to stop himself from grabbing them, kneading them, rubbing them, licking and biting them….

_Ohmygod, Ohmygod, Ohmygod, Ohmygod_

John gasped at the sudden heatwave which ran over him and his cock let out another thick dollop of precum.

“Oh, fuck! You´re not wearing any pants?“ He exclaimed.

What was a really stupid thing to come into his mind and blurt out loud but John just couldn´t help it. His brain had spectacularly short-circuited and only his primal functions remained online. He grunted out of humiliation.

The punk craned his unruly curly head over his shoulder to look at John and fix him with a wicked gleam in his _oh so_ pale eyes: “Obviously not. Waste of time actually. More clothes to discard.“

John sighed. “You´re a real slut, aren´t you? “

“Mmhhh, yessss, just like I like it! Dirty, filthy, slutty Sherlock“, he grinned a manic toothy smile and licked his lip piercing again, leaving a sloppy wet trail behind as saliva dripped from his pink tongue, “and you obviously like it, too.“ With that he bucked his plush arse upwards into John´s now terrifyingly hard and dripping cock.

“Like to perform some flithy acts on me just to explore how slutty I am?“ He whispered in that goddamn, fucking, sexy, deep voice.

That was it.

That really was it!

The last straw for John to loose any remains of self-control he had left. So he ended up being already wet with precum leaking out and he slicked it around his index finger and then he shoved his digit deep down into the punk´s hole to find it relaxed and wide open for him. It was also very, very slick. And hot. And soft. The muscle was very responsive and reverberated slightly as John circled his finger around the inside.

Sherlock moaned into the cushion.

John was so eager to finally get a taste of that luxurious piece of arse in front of him that he bore down and licked a hot humid stripe over the milky skin. He was delighted to see goosebumps emerging and he opened his mouth to suck a lovebite onto this lovely pale canvas before he bit strongly into Sherlock´s butt.

The groan that escaped the punk´s throat made John´s cocks twist again and he fumbled frantically to put on the sodding condom. He was afraid of ripping the latex before his cock could finally, finally be pressed against the smooth warm skin of the cleft between those divine arse cheeks.

It was like in one of those embarassing porno movies Christopher used to bring home. It was soooo hot, definitely filthy as fuck, incredibly sexy, forbidden, sinful and utterly delicious.

“I´ll fuck you to oblivion, you cunt!“ John growled.

“Oh, yes. Call me names. Show me what a slut I am.“ Sherlock panted in obvious delight.

Without any further preparation, John really couldn´t wait anymore out of fear he would burst otherwise, he pushed his cock deep down into the hot, wet hole of the thin body below him. Sherlock´s entrance was loosened and pliant but the inside was still tantalizingly tight. John felt the heat, the moisture, the tightness around his swollen cock and he pushed deep, deep down in a frenzied way and felt his balls slapping against Sherlock´s balls and he shouted in ecstasy of conquering unknown terrain.

“Fuck, yes, like that!“ Sherlock panted.

“I´ll grind you into the mattress, filthy whore!“

“Do it harder!“

John held down the curly head with a fierce grip to suppress any movements the gutterpunk could try to get away. Not that he did. Try. Sherlock seemed to dissolve into a boneless heap and he moaned and gasped in obvious pleasure about the rough treatment. Which egged John on to proceed.

“Yeah, take that, you dirty slut.“

“Oh, Gimme. More. Faster!“

“Fucking junkie.“

“Argh!“

“You worthless cunt!“

“That I am.“

“Rotten gutterpunk piece of shit!“

With each insult John shoved his cock as hard and deep as he positively could into Sherlock´s soft body. The punk trembled and slid slowly upwards onto the mattress with each punishing trust until he had to brace his hands against the headboard to not get his head crushed against it.

Sherlock moaned and fisted the bed sheet and his cheeks were flushed in a bright red. Sweat pooled at his nape and a single drop ran down along his swan-like pale neck.

“Subdue me, own me!“, he sighed.

“You´re in my bed, you´re at my mercy!“, John whispered into a pierced ear and felt his orgasm approaching quickly.

“Oh, fuck, yesss!“

“I´ll destroy you, now.“

“Pleeeeease.“

“I hold you down and you´ll never escape my cock.“

“Ngh!“

With every thrust John felt the muscle of Sherlock´s hole clenching around him. The punk was so fucking turned on by being called names that he shivered each time John humiliated him. He seemed close to fainting and broke out into sweat all over his frail body.

John also shoved his cock in an ever accellerating pace deep into the soft hotness of Sherlock´s arse until his groin slapped against damp skin.

They rutted and pumped like frenzied animals. They groaned, moaned, shouted out in utter lust. John wanted to dominate the submissive punk under him. Sherlock wanted to be owned by that annihilater above him.

With one hand fisted into Sherlock´s sweaty curls to push him down and his other hand used to steady himself above the pliant body which shivered in lust John set a frantic rhythm of in and out. The punk´s hole made depraved sucking noises each time John retreated just so far that his glans would not totally slip out. Then John shoved his fat swollen hot cock back into Sherlock´s arse until the pounding, punishing, beating pulse of cock against arse sent both men over the edge into sweet oblivion.

They climaxed together.

John came with a whining sound and shot off copious amounts of cum into the body beneath him. Sherlock howled desperately as he felt the tension leaving him and his belly lying in a warm sticky puddle. John´s cum felt like shooting up right to his stomach. He felt filled, claimed and satiated.

John collapsed on top of the bony, now listless body beneath him, sweaty and musky with sex and Sherlock felt utterly safe as John´s muscled and hot body covered him.

They remained like that for a long time. Their heavy breathing evened out. The sweat dried. Their bodies relaxed, completely blissed out. A coccoon of drowsy happiness descended onto them. John felt himself dozing off after pulling the duvet over their naked bodies.

He awakened up when that lithe body under him stirred in a careful attempt to get out _without_ waking him. Sherlock had slipped quietly out of bed. John opened sleep-heavy eyes and saw Sherlock´s gorgeous butt peaking out through largely widened tears in these illegal tight jeans as he bent down to gather his discarded clothes.

The view was lovely but also quite disconcerting.

“What are you doing?“, John mumbled sleepily.

“Never mind me. I´ll be off. You continue sleeping.“ Sherlock´s voice was steady but there was a subtle vibe of vulnerability in it.

John startled, now instantly alert: “What? Why? Stay!“

Sherlock froze. He did not turn to look at John but the soon-to-be-doctor noticed the tensing muscles in Sherlock´s back as he held onto his ragged clothes like they were a lifeline.

“Nobody ever wants me to stay.“ He answered in a shy and very insecure voice. It was miles away from his insolent and cocky behaviour earlier on.

“Well, I am!“

Sherlock actually flinched. He turned around and John felt a pang of sadness running through his body as he realized a look of defeat and self-loathing in that beautiful angelic face.

He whispered as if disbelieving that he had heard correctly: “That´s not what men normally say after fucking me.“

“And what might that be?“

“Get out of my bed and piss off!“

“Seems I´m not normal, then“, John grinned towards the flustered punk and held the duvet up in an inviting gesture, “just get back in here.“

“You would really like to shag me again?“ Sherlock asked bewildered and a crease formed between his eyebrows as he frowned.

_Oh God, had he never found anyone interested in himself and not only his body?_

“No you daft git. I mean, yes, of course, this too, definitely, but what I meant is, um, that I´d really like _you_ to stay with me.“

“I don´t understand. I´m insufferable, shameless, selfish and a worthless junkie. Why would someone decent like you even talk to me besides having sex into which I practically had to coerce you?“

“Because you´re amazing and dangerously interesting. You make me feel alive. And I don´t know how or why but I think I would really like you. A lot. If you just give me the chance to get to _know_ you.“

“Oh…“, Sherlock swallowed and the bundle of clothes slipped from his delicate fingers. They hit his naked feet and he stood limp and dazed in the middle of John´s room. He blinked in rapid sucession.

“Now come back to me, you nutter!“, John waved the duvet at him.

Sherlock took hesitating steps back towards the bed. He watched John distrustful and expected to be laughed at any moment for believing that hilarious prank. Sherlock lay down besides John who instantly hugged him tight in an attempt to keep him from disappearing again. Sherlock stiffened. John pressed a chaste kiss on his neck and sighed blissfully.

“I still don´t understand.“ Sherlock choked out.

“I want you to stay with me. I want to wake up next to you. I want to have you here for breakfast after we took a much needed shower together. I want to kiss you. I want to hold you. I want to stroke your hair. And I want to call you soppy pet names instead of petty insults.“

“Um. Well, that would be OK, I guess?“

“Oh, sunshine“, John sighed exasparated but very fond, “are you always like this?“

“What do you mean?“, Sherlock replied with a stupid, happy, dopey grin on his face, “so horny?“. He snuggled against John´s body. It was a perfect fit.

„Not what I meant, but anyway.“

„No, only when I´m high.“

„That´s…“

Sherlock continued quickly: “But since I´m nearly always high so I should better anwer _Yes_.“

_That´s a bit not good actually…_

„You could get high on me, though. Would be much healthier by the way. And gratuitous.“ John suggested, a warm smile on his face as he watched the punk intently and carefully snuggled back at the fragile body of this amazing and alluring man he accidentally had found in his bed. He pressed another gentle kiss onto the sharp cheekbone in front of him.

A genuinely surprised look found John´s earnest face. John was stunned as he saw this seemingly so debauched creature blushing like a bashful maiden, suddenly looking insecure and heart-achingly vulnerable again.

„So will you stay with me?“

„Yes, I think I could like you, too.“

**Author's Note:**

> this idea existed a long time half-way written and got stuck while I worked on "Wretched and Divine"  
> now it´s finally out of my head  
> what shall I say, I just love a sexy punky Sherlock...  
> hope you do, too and sorry for typos etc.  
> Love, Samarra


End file.
